


A Change of Plans

by Harukami



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-03
Updated: 2005-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for chapter 73 like WHOA. Not safe for work. FULL OF KINK.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Change of Plans

The door's shut and it's dark in there. Mello finds the bands tight around his wrists and the chair digging into his back and forces himself to breathe nevertheless.

He lost his fear a long time ago; it left and hasn't come back. He's not sure which death it vanished around but there's many. Even if he hadn't used the Death Note, he'd be a criminal ten times over. Even if he hadn't, he'd have been responsible for more deaths than he could name, and more crimes besides -- rapes, tortures, addictions -- from the words of advice he'd breathed into his pet mafioso's ear.

Men like him, he knew, had only two ways to live: With fear or fearlessly. He'd never been willing to try the first. He wasn't that type of man, after all; he was the type of man who would give anything up, and the type of man who would take things to fill its place, to work himself into the best position to be the _only one left_. Better that than some false attempts to 'get along'. In light of that feeling he'd had in front of Roger's desk, Near playing with a puzzle, and L's death ringing in his ears, nothing else could scare him so badly.

A fearless life is a good one. And only bizarre crimes capture L's attention, after all, and so how better to meet Near again but with the Note? Even if he lost. And he'd lost. But, perhaps, it was worth it.

And so it's not fear he feels as Near approaches. It's excitement instead, a strange building feeling that gathers in his chest like a head of steam, a teakettle about to start to scream. He grins at Near, shaking with the force of what's inside him, squints and grins and waits.

He sees Near notice his fearlessness, and sees Near contemplate and sees, like a switch being thrown, Near change the approach he plans to take.

Near's first smile hits him hard and confuses him, wipes the smile from his own face. Near's not a man for expressions, but a man for ice, cold enough to burn when you touch him. A boy like that. He's walls that you bounce off of, sheer sheets of ice that reflect nothing but yourself and distort it into something horrible.

But this smile is -- it's dark and dangerous and twisted, showing rows of teeth and his eyes are wide, not half-lidded at all, dark and desperately wild with an intensity Mello has never seen in anything but the mirror.

"Mello, Mello, Mello," Near says, and leans over the chair. He's got one hand on either side of Mello's shoulders, and the way he's leaning in, face-first so that his body is far back but his face is just inches away, makes it difficult to breathe. "Look at you now."

Mello manages to twist his face into another scornful smile. "My, Near," he says. "I could say the same thing."

"You should count yourself lucky that I interfered in the false L's raid," Near says, his voice low and husky. Over the years, it's deepened more than Mello's has, and that's somehow annoying -- that at seventeen, he'd sound more of a man than Mello does. "Or you would be dead right now. Executed by Death Note -- a fitting death."

"Ahh," Mello says, smirking. "That's how you intend to have me killed after all, isn't it? Simply that it is not right to make that man do it."

"Oh? Is that the fate you think I have in mind for you?" Near asks, and bites Mello's ear.

Mello's eyes widen without him quite intending it. "I thought--"

"You've wanted me to kill you all these years, haven't you," Near breathes, sliding first one leg over Mello, than the other, so he's straddling Mello. Suddenly tense, Mello wants to fight but can't, perfectly tied to the chair; he can barely do more than buck and Near doesn't seem to mind that at all, the grin on his face widening. "You've been looking forward to it."

"You--"

"Does it turn you on?" Near asks, and slides a hand into Mello's lap. "...Ah, it _does_. Very interesting. Very good to know."

Mello grits his teeth. "Do you intend to rape me before you execute me, Near?"

"That's a good question," Near says, and undoes Mello's zipper. "Do I?"

"That's--"

Near tsks. "For a man who's always wanted to show me his superiority," he says, "you seem desperate to hand me all control."

"What--"

"You heard me," Near repeats, and licks at Mello's jaw as he strokes his cock. "You're demanding the scenario. 'Near will rape me, and Near will execute me'. How many years have you been dreaming this?"

Mello's breath catches. "I don't know what you--"

"I could," Near says, almost dreamily, shifting, climbing almost all over Mello, one foot up on the chair's edge by Mello's leg, knee bent past the chair back. He grinds against Mello's belly, reaching behind himself to continue stroking Mello. "I heard your real name from the incident reports. Mihael Keehl, correct?"

He's won, Mello realizes distantly, won in a way that has nothing to do with his real name or the Death Note or an upcoming execution. He closes his eyes and whimpers, thrusts into the grip of Near's hand.

"It's a nice name," Near murmurs to him, lips pressed to his ear. He's unfastened his pants and his penis is a hot pressure against the skin of Mello's sternum. "Mihael. Mihael. It feels nice to say. _Mihael_."

It sounds all wrong, really, a word he's never expected to hear aloud, but Near's right; the sound of it rolls out like it belongs in Near's mouth.

"This is the worst bit for you, isn't it?" Near asks, his wrist twisting and oh, god, Near is disturbingly good at this. "That I recognize your plans for what they are. It's not rape any more, is it? Because we've both consented to this."

Mello bares his teeth, bites at Near's neck.

"Mm," Near sighs. "This is the you that I like, I think."

When orgasm hits it comes without warning. Near strokes him through it, then drags his hand forward, takes hold of his own erection and jerks himself off, staring at Mello with too-wide eyes, grinning the whole time.

When it's done, Near sits back on Mello's knees and digs a chocolate bar from his outershirt's pocket. "Would you care for a piece?"

Mello looks away and opens his mouth.

He manages not to see Near's expression at that though he hears a chuckle. A moment later, there's a piece of dark chocolate in his mouth along with two sticky fingers and he's not sure which is more bitter.

Mello waits until Near withdraws his fingers before suckling on the chocolate.

"Well," Near says, still not moving. "Mello -- Mihael. I'm not interested in executing you."

It is slightly like the world crashing down, though Mello had started to suspect it from the start of that conversation. He watches Near evenly.

"More to the point," Near says, "We have always been competitors, but we both seek the same target. Kira."

Mello nods.

"I believe we both have a suspicion of who this might be," Near says, and curls hair around his finger, grinning at Mello still. "And while you refused working with me to become L, would you refuse to work together with me to defend the title of 'L' from use by his killer?"

He's lost, and death is not an option. And it's true; this is something it might actually be worth working with Near for. "I'd do that," Mello says. "I'm a Kira as well, of course."

"Oh, of course," Near says. "But you didn't kill L. Frankly, I'm interested in vengeance."

That makes more sense, and it is disturbing, deeply disturbing, the sudden feeling of kinship he feels. And, perhaps, they can still compete like this. It is not an entire loss, and it is not something to be feared, this alliance, but something to use to his advantage. Mello pushes the melted chocolate to one side of his mouth. "Kiss me," he says.

Near tilts his head, then does so.

Mello opens his mouth and pours chocolate back in until Near makes a faint surprised choking sound, pulls back. Chocolate is dribbling over his lips, marking the creases in it, sliding down his cheeks to pool at his chin and drip, staining his clothing dark.

"I accept," Mello says.  



End file.
